


Second Chances

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: Fitz gets thawed and then gets caught up to speed by the rest of the team.





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I have not read any other post-season 5 fics, so any similarity to others is purely coincidental. 
> 
> 2\. A fic in the F/S tag actually focusing on and respecting the romantic and/or sexual relationship between F/S?!?!? Shocking, I know! I humbly offer this as my (first, hopefully) contribution to the efforts to take back the tag from those who so rudely refuse to follow the most basic rules of fandom etiquette. (Ahem, the "Minor or Background Relationships" tag exists for a reason. Or here's a thought: only tag for the pairing that's the focus of the story! Those fans will thank you for making their lives easier, and fans of the inappropriately tagged ships will thank you for saving them time and aggravation. Win, win!)

Fitz had no real way of knowing how much time had passed, but he couldn’t help but feel like it hadn’t been enough. Groggy and disoriented, he sat up with assistance from Enoch, who supported him with one hand around his shoulders.

“Is it time?” Fitz finally managed to ask.

“Yes and no,” was Enoch’s cryptic reply. “According to my fellow Chronicom, the extinction-level event was averted. We can return to earth.”

“No,” Fitz objected, nearly falling to the ground when Enoch released him to reach for a blanket. “That wasn’t – the only – we still – the others – ”

He wondered if and when he’d be able to form a coherent sentence. Enoch placed the blanket around his shoulders and helped him to stand again. He led him a short distance to a chair. Not that Fitz wanted to sit down anyway. 

“The others have just managed to contact me. They have – returned from the future and are close to meeting up with us.”

Fitz stared at him for a long time. “How?” 

He wasn’t even entirely sure which part of the whole thing needed the most explanation.

“With the spaceship you designed in the future, according to Agent Johnson.”

Fitz blinked, stunned. “But I haven’t been to the future yet,” he argued nonsensically.

“Another version of you, in a different timeline, has.”

“That’s not possible. Time is fixed.”

“Your presence would suggest otherwise.”

Fitz whined aggressively, lifting one hand to rub at his brow. He was still too – he had just been frozen! He couldn’t process – it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered – 

“Jemma?” he asked.

“The others are coming to meet us,” Enoch repeated.

An hour later, he still wasn’t completely accepting of the few details Enoch had, or of the fact that he had only been asleep for a few months. He was supposed to save them, Robin had told him so. It was the reason he’d been left behind. It didn’t seem – right, somehow – that they were coming to find him now, before he’d done anything. 

How was he supposed to make up for all that had happened before? How was he supposed to prove he wasn’t – ?

He didn’t have much time to think about that, however, because sooner than he would have guessed, a proximity alarm sounded, and Enoch went to the controls of the ship. Fitz followed more slowly, staring out the window in awe as he confirmed it really was the Zephyr out in space. But he only allowed himself a few moments of surprise and a strange, unearned pride, before heading towards the connecting port.

Before his foot even touched down on the floor of the other plane, Jemma was there, throwing her arms around him in a desperately tight hug. Fitz returned it, shaking as badly as he had when he was first pulled out of cryo. Jemma clung to him, and he could hear her unsteady breath in his ear. 

“It’s OK,” he murmured, not sure that was true but needing to comfort her. “It’s OK. God, I was so worried when you all just disappeared from the diner like that. I’m never leaving your side again.”

Jemma sobbed loudly, pulling him even closer. Feeling urgent, however, Fitz reached up to pull her arms gently away and stepped back to separate them. Maybe if his subconscious had had the anticipated 70-plus years to work on it, he would have a more romantic speech ready, but he’d just have to wing it.

“Curse be damned,” Fitz said gruffly, staring down at where he held her hands because he was too nervous to look directly at her. “I want to – Jemma, will you – what’s this?”

He stared, dumbstruck, at the ring she wore on her left hand. 

Laughing through her tears, Jemma simply responded, “It’s a long story.”

Before she could tell it, however, Mack – _Mack!_ – was pushing his way closer, grumping that Jemma was hogging him and other people wanted to say hello too. Apparently, the long story would have to wait, as he was sucked into the rest of the group and hugged by them all, starting with Mack and ending with a strangely hesitant Daisy. Fitz’s heart clutched when he realized that was it. As happy as he was to see them all, he –

“Where are Coulson and May?” he demanded.

They looked around at each other. Finally, Yo-Yo responded, simply repeating Jemma earlier, with “It’s a long story.”

Fitz breathed slowly. “I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?”

“Eh,” Jemma replied with a sadly amused smile, “not that much.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” he reminded her.

**

From his vantage point in the makeshift hospital unit, Fitz could see Enoch talking with Yo-Yo, and Daisy conferring with Piper and Davis about their return flight, and Jemma at a console reading over his vitals. He wanted her in there with him, celebrating their reunion and telling their side of the story and explaining where May and Coulson were, but he knew her too well. He knew she wouldn’t rest until she confirmed with her own two eyes that he was as healthy as could be expected. She seemed even more worried than usual, which was understandable.

Fitz smiled fondly, but was startled out of his observations as Mack walked closer. 

“It’s good to see you, Turbo,” he said. 

Fitz focused on his friend. “I’ve missed you too, Mack,” he said. 

“You feeling OK?”

“Fine, yeah. Almost all warmed up.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know – just seems weird. Was there really another me that made it all the way to the future? Time isn’t fixed? Or is multiverse theory true and – ?”

“Don’t ask me to explain it, buddy. But yeah, there was another you.”

Fitz inhaled, nodded, looked around the room. His next question was clawing at his throat, but he was afraid to hear the answer. Maybe if he just assumed the best-case scenario. 

“And so – and so, when the timeline got back on track, the other me…disappeared from existence?”

Mack was silent for a long time.

“No,” he finally said. Fitz could hear the grief in his voice, and it made him tense with pain and fear. “No. But – he is gone now. I…I was there.” 

Fitz nodded, his worst suspicions confirmed. Jemma hadn’t even told him her long story yet, but at least he could guess now where that ring came from and why she had looked at him like she saw a ghost when they first saw each other again. 

“Was she there?” he asked, devastated at the thought of her watching him die but also at the thought of dying without her to hold him.

“No.”

Fitz swallowed past a thick lump in his throat. A long beat passed, and then he forced an insincere laugh. 

“So, what were my last words? Something meaningful and profound, I hope.”

“They were – ” Mack broke off, looking away before facing Fitz again. “‘I think my legs are broken.’”

Fitz blinked, feeling vaguely embarrassed. “That’s it?”

Mack chuckled. “Yep.”

“Nothing amazing? Nothing about Jemma?! ‘I think my legs are broken?’ How disappointing.”

Mack laughed louder. “Well, it made me cry,” he confessed. 

Fitz breathed out sharply, trying to pretend he was amused. “Not very heroic,” he added. 

“You helped save Polly and Robin, and you helped save the world,” Mack pointed out. 

“Where’s Coulson?” Fitz blurted, desperate to change the subject and tired of ignoring the elephant and feeling like the answer was connected to all this anyway.

Mack was silent for a long time. 

“Dead?” Fitz realized, whispering in horror.

“I don’t know, but probably by now.”

“And May?”

“With him.”

“Ho – how? Why?”

“The scar tissue around his heart – when he made the deal with Ghost Rider, something happened. His heart just gave out.”

Fitz swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of a flame-headed Coulson and a shrieking AIDA. That was why he was dead. Because of her, because of – because of Fitz. Fitz drew his legs up and buried his face against his knees. 

“Guess you didn’t save them, after all,” a quiet voice muttered.

Fitz’s head popped up and he stared at Mack in shock. “What?” But before Mack could answer, Fitz saw someone disappearing down the hall. Someone wearing – 

“Who else is on this plane?” he asked, his voice quiet and unsteady in terror.

“No one,” Mack said slowly.

After a beat, Fitz shook his head and focused on his friend again. “Must be imagining things,” he said with a weak smile. 

The comment did not seem to make Mack relax as it’d been intended to. 

“I’m director now,” he said, causing Fitz to blink in surprise – he’d have bet that Daisy – “and as director, I plan to implement some policies. Mandatory R&R, that sort of thing. Regular hours as much as possible. And therapy.”

**

When they arrived at the latest of Fury’s bases which would become their new home, they walked inside slowly – dazed with exhaustion, grief, and relief. Fitz watched silently as Daisy and Mack looked at each other, communicated wordlessly and nodded in agreement. Daisy walked to the nearest terminal and logged into the system. A whir went through the base as it switched from a dormant, essential-functions-only stage to one ready to support life and activity.

“The bedrooms are down that hallway,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder, “kitchen too. I’ve set an alarm to monitor the news and exterior and whatnot, and I’ve locked the doors.”

With that, she turned to Mack, letting him give the final order.

“Everyone, go to bed,” he added. 

They all did so without protest. Fitz and Jemma, still holding hands, were the last to do so. With a grateful nod at Enoch, who Fitz knew would sit in the control room and observe the surveillance system himself, they followed the others down the hall. 

They didn’t say much. Fitz still wanted to hear what Jemma had been through, but he was willing to wait until she was ready to tell him. Instead, he just kicked his shoes in the corner of the first empty bedroom the found, shucked his clothes and crawled onto the mattress. Jemma followed him moments later, down to her knickers and the t-shirt he had just taken off. If he’d cared enough at that point, he’d point out how ripe it was, after his adventure with Hunter and then several months in the cryo-freeze chamber. But he couldn’t be bothered to care, and apparently neither could she. She just wrapped her arm around him, cuddling as close as she could, and rested her head on his chest with a sigh. Fitz twisted slightly, kissing the top of her forehead. Before he let his own eyes close, he stole another glance at the ring on Jemma’s left hand. 

The next time he opened his eyes, it was some ungodly hour of the morning, according to the clock he squinted at from across the room. He was still tired, but not enough to stay in bed – he had, after all, been asleep for the past few months, and besides, the small snack they’d given him on the Zephyr had been hours ago and his stomach ached with hunger. Jemma, however, was still completely out, on her back now and twisted up in the sheets. Something on her chest glinted in the dim light, and Fitz leaned closer to see what it was. 

He swallowed thickly when he realized it was a chain threaded through another wedding ring, this one more masculine but small enough to fit his fingers. 

Now he definitely wasn’t going to sleep.

Moving slowly, he lifted the sheets aside and slid off the mattress. He made his way over to the corner, picked up his trousers and stepped into them carefully. He then tugged his shoes on before looking around, finally spotting another door. His hope that it was a stocked closet was realized, and he soon was wearing a gray sweatshirt with a S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. With one last glance at Jemma to confirm he hadn’t woken her, he slipped out of the room as quietly as possible. 

He was surprised to discover he wasn’t the only one making a snack run. Daisy perched on a stool, eating a bowl of ice cream despite the cool, dark kitchen. She read the news on a tablet; the photographs showed significant destruction and he just made out the word Quake in the headline.

“Hey,” he announced himself.

Daisy jumped in surprise and Fitz smiled briefly to himself. It was hard to spook her these days, usually. She must be still worn out from and distracted by recent events. 

“Hey,” she replied. Fitz noted she not-so-casually got off the stool and sidled around so the table was in between them, not even dragging her bowl with her. “Couldn’t sleep? You really should – ”

“I’m starving, Pot,” Fitz pointed out, aiming for a good-natured tone but still feeling like something was not quite right. “Besides, I’ve been sleeping for months. It was you all who saved the day in the end, apparently.”

He didn’t add that he had needed rescuing, in a sense, on top of that. He supposed he should be grateful that they came after him, instead of letting him wake up several decades in the future, all alone. But it was hard to admit that he had been the weak link again. So, instead, he walked farther into the room, sidestepping the table to reach for the cupboard door, and steadfastly ignoring the figure in the corner who had just followed him into the room.

So, OK, maybe it hadn’t just been hunger that woke him up. Maybe it had been nightmarish memories of…that place. The same nightmares that had begun sometime during his time locked up and had apparently started to manifest now. 

He blindly grabbed the first food he saw and turned to face Daisy again. He furrowed his brow when he saw that she had moved again, around to the far side of the table so they were still separated. 

“Are you OK?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

“What do you mean? What would be wrong?” Her denial was far too insincere.

“Daisy, you seem – afraid of me…” It hurt to say aloud, and he wanted to believe he was wrong, but…

Daisy sighed. “It’s just,” she began, pausing to look down at her fingers where they rested on the table, “it’s just…things got rough. Understatement, I guess. I know, I _know_ it wasn’t you, but…”

Fitz’s eyes darted to the corner briefly before he refocused on Daisy. “What do you mean?” he asked softly.

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. When she looked at him again, it was with a self-deprecating smile and a shrug.

“I can’t talk about it with you. Not yet. For both of our sakes. I will tell you someday.”

Fitz was speechless, so he simply watched as Daisy leaned forward and picked up her ice cream bowl. The leftovers were now melted. With a deep breath, she seemed to steel herself, and then walked around the table towards the sink. Fitz noticed she deliberately took the route that would force her to walk past him. 

She stopped when they were mere inches apart. After a moment, she reached out and squeezed his arm. “It wasn’t you. We’ll figure it out someday because we’re family and…it wasn’t you. But I might be a little weird in the meantime. And I don’t know – I’d like to believe that I would have eventually thought the same about – well, Not You. It’s just – ”

She stopped when her voice broke with emotion. She shook her head. “I love you,” she said. “And I can’t lose you again, so I’m going to make sure _you_ don’t lose you again, OK?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Daisy laughed. “I know,” she replied, then leaned closer to kiss his cheek. 

Fitz turned to watch her as she left the room. Once he was alone again, her words started to echo in his head, but he couldn’t make sense of them. They filled him with a chilling sensation and he closed his eyes to try to drown them out. After a beat, however, he took a deep breath. Another and another, until his breathing turned steady and his pulse slowed. 

“We’ll figure out it because we’re family,” he murmured quietly, feeling in his heart that the sentiment extended to a lot more than just whatever had Daisy spooked. 

He opened his eyes and looked at the corner again. 

It was empty.

**

Jemma was awake when he returned, sitting on the window seat he hadn’t even noticed when they crashed. Out the window, he could see the first hints of sunrise. She turned to look at him, smiled, and drew her legs up to make room for him. That wasn’t an invitation he intended to resist, so he made his way over and sat down. As soon as he did, she stretched her legs back out across his lap, and he loosely wrapped a hand around her knee. They were silent for a long moment, her watching the sunrise and him watching her. He was still in awe that she was there and he had her back.

She turned to look at him eventually, the risen sun making her hair shine and her face glow – although that was perhaps just happiness. She pursed her lips briefly, as if trying not to cry.

“I can’t believe I have you back,” she whispered.

Fitz reached out, grabbing hold of her hand and squeezing. He didn’t comment on the ring. Instead he simply asked her to tell him everything.

She inhaled deeply, hesitating or gathering her thoughts. “The first thing I remember after the diner was standing in this empty room next to Coulson and the others. Well, not empty. There was a monolith and the sight just paralyzed me. 

He listened as she continued, sometimes easily and sometimes grasping for words. She spoke of her terror and confusion in the future, of her worry for him all alone, of her frustrated loathing for Kasius and the loneliness she felt separated from the rest of the group, of the joy and later grief she felt working with Abby, of the even greater – if shocked – joy she felt the first time she saw him – the other him. She described how they worked together to escape and return to their own time. And then she told him all the rest too, including the things Mack wouldn’t and Daisy couldn’t share. Their wedding, his attack on Daisy, Coulson, Talbot, and finally his own death. 

Fitz was silent for a long time after, trying to take it all in. 

“What was the wedding like?” he finally asked, picking up her hand and twisting it around so he could see the ring again.

“Small. Romantic. Beautiful.” She smiled, remembering. “You wore a kilt.”

Fitz snorted. “Liar.” Her answering laugh proved him right. “Well, the other me picked a beautiful ring, at least.”

Jemma grinned. “Oh no,” she corrected him. “That’s the best part. I left it out as a little surprise. Deke picked out our rings and my dress too.”

Fitz furrowed his brow. “Deke? The guy from the future who came back with you?” 

“Yes,” she confirmed. After a significant pause, she added, “Our grandson.”

Fitz did a double take, staring at her in surprise. “Our…our…we…?”

She nodded.

Fitz shook his head quickly, sitting straighter in excitement. “Tell me about him again, tell me more. What was he like?”

“Tell me what you think our grandson would be like,” she teased. 

“Perfect! He was brilliant, I’m sure, and – ”

Jemma’s peals of laughter interrupted him.

“What?”

“I’ll explain it all later.”

Fitz tilted his head, looking at her curiously. As he thought about it, however, a dark mood started to settle over him. He let go of her hand.

“But he’s gone now,” he realized slowly, painfully. “Probably when the timeline changed. Because he wasn’t my grandson, right? He was…his.”

Jemma stopped laughing. She watched him for a moment, then shrugged. “So, maybe this timeline’s Deke will be lucky enough to grow up loved and happy, with fond memories of running around Perthshire with his grandfather.” 

Fitz swallowed thickly. “You still want that? With me?”

“Of _course_ I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because…” He heaved a sigh, unable to look at her. “Because you married the guy who made it to the future to rescue you. The hero who died saving the world. I’m not him. I’m – I’m still broken.”

Jemma scoffed lightly, with a fond roll of her eyes. “Didn’t you listen to a word of that story? So was he! Besides,” she added, reaching up to pull the necklace over her head. She took his hand and placed the other ring in his palm, letting the chain pool around it until she could close his fist over the whole thing. She then wrapped her own hands around his. “I married the guy who was too afraid to talk to me at the Academy. I married the guy who freaked out at me when I left a cat’s liver next to his lunch. I married the guy who went into the field even though it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, just because I asked him to go with me. I married the guy who broke into quarantine to figure out the Chitauri virus. I married the guy who confessed how he felt and saved me at the bottom of the ocean. I married the guy who struggled so hard to recover, who blamed me for leaving him when he needed me the most – yes, you did, stop shaking your head. I married the guy who never gave up when I was lost on another planet. I married the guy who lost himself in a virtual world. I married the guy who never let me down. I married my best friend and the love of my life. And, OK, yes, I married the guy who made it to the future. And part of me does and will mourn him, probably forever.”

Fitz nodded in acceptance, sniffing and wiping at his eyes after her declaration. Jemma sighed, offering him a sad smile.

“You’re not the man I married,” she continued, “but you’re the man I _will_ marry, if you’ll have me. You’re the man I will grow old with, have children with. It’s weird, I know. But…we have a second chance, if we’re brave enough to take it. So, we can go as slow as you want, fall in love again, get all the therapy we need, but – ”

“Marry me, Jemma,” Fitz interrupted. It wasn’t the heartfelt romantic proposal he’d wanted to give her when he found her again, but it would have to do. 

“For the record,” Jemma said, smiling a secret sort of smile, “I did propose first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Those of you who follow me on tumblr know that I am (still) annoyed that everyone - including Jemma - just seemed totally like "Eh, so our good friend and Jemma's husband died, but no problem, we got a backup!" This was an attempt to make that work at least somewhat better for me.


End file.
